


Why We Hate Valentine's Day

by brokenlibrarygirl



Series: I HATE Valentine's Day [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Confessions of love, Drunklock, M/M, Mild Language, Sherlock Holmes hates Valentine's Day, Unrequited Love, Valentine's Day, john watson hates Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenlibrarygirl/pseuds/brokenlibrarygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson and Sherlock Holmes are not happy on Valentine's Day. Confessions...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why We Hate Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

> If I can't be happy on Valentine's Day...John Watson and Sherlock Holmes shouldn't be either.

Valentine’s Day

The pink and red and frills were nauseating. Manufactured by card companies to make money, perpetuated by couples thinking one day of gifts and sex make up a year of mediocrity. It was hateful and stupid and Mrs. Hudson was making it worse. Her giggles and noises of flirtation were filtering up the stairs and it was becoming altogether intolerable. It was too cold to leave and going upstairs was unacceptable.

_I would not think of John Watson_

_I wouldn’t think of him cuddled with Mary in bed._

_I wouldn’t think of his bitten lip._

The box in the freezer. It was calling to me. My 7% solution

 **Case for you Sherlock, call me** from Lestrade. No definitely not.

It had been worth it. To keep Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and most of all John in the world. Jumping off that roof had kept the one person I cared about most in the world alive and it was worth it. It wasn’t worth this aching emptiness that I was feeling in my chest. The emptiness of the flat, the quiet, the pain.

_I wouldn’t think of laughing with John in the hallway_

_I wouldn’t think of the amazing way John had saved Guardsman Bainbridge_

_I would ignore the elephant in the room_

Where did I put that scotch I think as I haul myself out of my chair. It would be safer, no interference from Mycroft. I could forget.

 **I need you on this** Lestrade again

No. 

Mary had been surprising. I could see why John loved her. She was smart and funny. She was a liar and holding on to some secret I couldn’t figure out. I’d hate her if I could but she was so very like me. She made it hurt all the more. She was what John wanted, she filled his needs in ways I could not. 

I poured my drink and stomped back to the couch with the bottle in hand. This would do. Tomorrow would be kinder, less oppressive, less...damn...it all…  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

_three hours later_

Something woke me from my kip on the sofa. The phone was the first check. Three missed calls from Lestrade. Oops I think…

Another drink will do...I grab the bottle and pour some more. Then I hear it..a key in the door..familiar footfalls on the stairs...John… it was late...1 am…

“Sherlock?” he calls as he reaches the open door...oops. His eyes are wild and he looks upset.

“John Watson...shouldn’t...shhhouldn’t you beee.. home with herrrrr” I slur

“Sherlock what are you doing?....you’re drinking?” he says moving in front of me.

“Whyyy nottt. I’m an adult...and single...on Valenttine’ssss Day” I say with a wave of my hand. Why was he here, it was all too confusing.

“Sherlock..Greg and Mycroft called me….are you alright?” John huffs 

“Fiiiine...it’s all fiiine Johnnn…go home to Mary...I...don’t love you” I say turning away from him.

“Sherlock!!” he yells. Ooops there it was my unfettered brain blurted something I only thought. Here it comes, the fiery Scottish anger and slamming of doors. He hauls me off the couch and drags me into the direction of the bedroom. I don’t care. He was here.

“Jawnnn. Whhaaat?” I huff as he throws me down on the bed.

“Sherlock Holmes you drunken asshole. I was...I was”

“Mid coitus?” I chuckle 

“Shut up….just shut up” he says shaking his head, hands on his waist. Upset.

“Go home Jawnnn. I...finnne” I mumble closing my eyes.

“You’re not fine. Go to sleep Sherlock. I’ll be out there” John mumbles patting me on the hip.

“GOOOO...hoooommmmmeee. I groan” and drift to sleep.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Achhh. The pain slamming behind my eyes. It was too bright. God…

I stumble into the bathroom for some paracetamol and basic hygiene and then out to the sitting room for tea. Oh..John...what? Oh god. The memory of last night came slamming back to me. I freeze in the kitchen hand on the kettle and watch him asleep on the sofa. He stayed, the night, on Valentine’s Day. Something was epically wrong, something I couldn’t deduce. I turn on the tap to fill the kettle. I tried to reconcile how to handle this morning. I stared at the blue light, wishing I wasn’t so weak, wasn’t so drunk, should have gone on the case.

“Making some for me?” John’s voice mumbles closer than I expected. I can sense he is within a metre of where I am standing, it is too close.

“Of course. I should try to be a gracious host” I say not turning and reaching for a second mug.

“How do you feel this morning Sherlock” John grumbles. I can’t answer him. 

_Ashamed, stupid, pained, I love you John Watson_

“Could be better” I mumble fixing the tea.

“Why so much alcohol Sherlock. You don’t drink that much...ever” he huffs

“Not really your concern anymore John. Call Mary, she’ll be worried of course” I say turning around handing him the mug of tea and retreating to my shower. I try to scrub away the stain of my embarrassment, the stain of shame. John was just my friend, he would never feel the same way I felt about him. Stupid stupid stupid. I stay under the spray til the water runs cold and I shiver into my pajama pants, shirt, and dressing gown. Hopefully John was gone, and it would all be over. 

“Sherlock tell me what last night was about” John barks from the sitting room. He’s still here, why?

“John..I..”  
“Because you said you didn’t love me.” John interrupts. I freeze mid sip of my now cold tea, knowing this was a moment that would end our friendship, that would end the Sherlock Holmes & John Watson partnership, it would end it all. “Sherlock?” John says closing in on me and poking me in the chest.

“John. I think it is time you return to the woman that you love. If we continue this conversation you will only be upset and storm off anyway. It would be better for you and I if you left now and forget last night” I mumble with a sip of tea.

“I left my fiance alone, in bed, naked, on Valentine’s Day so see if you were ok, if you were high, or hurt, or dead. What can you deduce about that Sherlock Holmes” John growls, his hands clenched, his jaw set.

“You’re a medical man, needing to heal and fix and care. That is all. Go home John” I say wanting him to stay. I watch his face, his hands, he looks like the first night of my return, ready to punch, to hurt me.

“Sherlock Holmes…..you….you...stop this...I hate Valentine’s Day….so much…because I ….with you...it hurts so much…...” he stops hangs his head and turns away, grabbing his coat and is down the stairs. There it is. Gone again. 

Done...it was all done…

I go back to my bed and sleep. I dream of nothing but puzzles and cloudy skies. I wake for basic necessity and collect the mail. Bill, bill, bill, ….violet card…no return address

I open the card with a mix of disgust and slight trepidation. It could be a stalker, or criminal luring me to work.

_Outside: To the one who loves me even though I don’t deserve it…_

_Inside: thank you. Happy Valentine’s Day_

No signature, no return address. I lift it to my nose to smell it. 

Tea, wool, gun oil, John


End file.
